


A Cord of Three Strands

by enigmaticblue



Series: The Wounds 'Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” ~Ecclesiastes 4:12</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cord of Three Strands

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically something of a Christmas fic, but I didn’t get to it until now, so it’s a bit late.

Sam wakes gradually, his mind a pleasant, drowsy blank at first. He blinks and turns his head slowly, immediately recognizing arcane symbols on the walls of Bobby’s panic room. He’s woken up here before, after all, and he takes one breath and then another, trying to remember how he’d come to be there.

 

His last memory is of Dean’s battered face, and of the Impala, right before he’d fallen backwards, consigning Lucifer to Hell.

 

He shifts on the thin mattress of the Army cot and is relieved that he’s not restrained, although he feels the dull burn of an IV line in his arm. A glance at the bag above his head suggests that it’s a saline drip, and Sam carefully pulls it out, pushing himself up, and swinging his legs over the side.

 

Sam’s wearing different clothes than he did at Stull, and he’s feeling a little lightheaded, his head aching, his empty stomach twisting.

 

He stands up slowly, tugging at his flannel shirt, waiting for a moment until he’s certain his legs will hold him, and then he tries the door, which is unlocked. Apparently, they’re not too worried about him getting out, although Sam has no idea where his brother is.

 

Usually, Dean is right there, waiting for him to wake up.

 

Sam makes his way out of the panic room and up the stairs to the main floor of Bobby’s house, keeping hold of the handrail all the way up. The cold, damp air of the basement suggests that the weather outside is at least chilly, but he has no other indication of how much time has passed, or even what time of day it is.

 

When Sam enters the kitchen, he’s surprised to see Dean and Bobby sitting at the kitchen table with Castiel, who’s wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans, instead of his usual suit, tie, and trench coat.

 

Sam could have sworn that he’d watched Bobby and Cas die.

 

“Hey,” Sam manages. “Dean.”

 

Dean stands, and Sam surges forward, wrapping his arms around Dean with a sense of profound gratitude. After a moment, Dean returns the embrace, his arms tightening around Sam.

 

Dean pulls back, and he smiles wearily. “Hey, Sammy. How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” Sam replies. He’s a little surprised when Bobby and Cas get up and make no move towards Sam. He takes a step towards Bobby, who won’t quite meet Sam’s eyes.

 

“Glad you’re okay,” Bobby says gruffly and leaves the kitchen.

 

Cas touches Dean’s shoulder, and Sam sees that his wrists are swathed in white gauze. “Call if you need me.”

 

Cas leaves, and Sam frowns. “Dean? How long was I down there?”

 

“Down where?” Dean hedges.

 

“The basement,” Sam replies. “Bobby’s panic room.”

 

Dean hesitates. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

“The field,” Sam replies. “Cas and Bobby were killed. Who brought them back? I don’t understand.”

 

Dean smiles, but the expression looks forced. “It’s a long story.”

 

Sam frowns, sensing an undercurrent that he can’t quite figure out. “Are you okay?”

 

Dean doesn’t exactly answer him. “It’s good to have you back,” Dean replies evasively. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

Sam shrugs. “I’m starving, actually.”

 

“That can be fixed,” Dean replies, this time with a smile that reaches his eyes. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

 

Sam sits down, watching as Dean rummages in the fridge. “Do you want a beer?” Dean asks.

 

“I’d take one,” Sam admits.

 

Dean twists the cap off a bottle and puts it in front of Sam. “Here you go.”

 

Sam turns the bottle and asks cautiously, “What happened with Bobby and Cas?”

 

Dean glances at him, and seems to hesitate before he says, “Something or someone brought Cas back, and he healed Bobby.”

 

“How long ago was that?” Sam asks, wondering if the passage of time accounts for the strangeness.

 

Dean hesitates. “Over a year and a half now.”

 

Sam frowns, trying to absorb that information. He has no idea how he could have been gone for so long and yet not remember anything. “How did you get me out?” Sam asks warily. “Did Cas do it?”

 

“Cas doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Dean snaps angrily.

 

Sam stares at him. “But he was just—wasn’t he just here?” he asks uncertainly.

 

Dean lets out a bark of laughter that holds little humor. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t know. That was Jimmy, not Cas. Castiel has a new vessel.”

 

“Okay,” Sam says slowly. “I didn’t know Jimmy was hunting now.”

 

Dean turns and faces Sam with a defiant expression, leaning back against the counter, his face half in shadow, even in the midafternoon light streaming into the kitchen. “We’re together, Sammy.”

 

Sam nods. “Oh, you’re hunting together?”

 

Dean makes a sound that expresses his impatience. “No, we’re _together_. I guess you’d call him my boyfriend.”

 

Sam can tell from Dean’s expression that Dean expects him to react poorly, and so Sam maintains a completely neutral expression. “Oh. That’s—that’s good. Is it good?”

 

The smile that Dean offers in response is real, his eyes lighting up in a way Sam knows is genuine. “Yeah. It’s good.”

 

Sam nods. “Then I’m happy for you.”

 

Dean chuckles, and the sound holds real humor this time. “Thanks.”

 

“What about Castiel?” Sam asks carefully, feeling as though he’s on ground littered with landmines.

 

“Castiel has a new vessel,” Dean replies. “Like I said. He’s been helpful, but I don’t trust him right now.” Dean makes a face. “I should say that I don’t trust _her_.”

 

“The vessel is a woman?” Sam asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “Long story. I’ll tell you about it one of these days. You sure you’re okay?”

 

Sam isn’t quite sure how to respond, since that’s the third time Dean’s asked some variation of that question, and he seems to expect some other response than the one Sam keeps giving him. “Fine. Just a little confused, I guess, but otherwise, I’m okay.”

 

“What’s confusing?” Dean asks, putting a plate with a sandwich in front of Sam.

 

“How you got me out of hell, for one,” Sam says, taking a huge bite.

 

Dean shrugs. “I made a bet with Death, and it paid off. And before you say it, it’s not anything I haven’t heard before. Jimmy wasn’t happy with me either.”

 

“That’s how you got me out?” Sam asks incredulously. “You made a deal with Death?”

 

Dean shakes his head, suddenly appearing older and wearier than Sam can ever remember him looking. “Someone else retrieved your body; I just made sure you had your soul.”

 

“What does that mean?” Sam demands.

 

Dean rubs his eyes. “It means that you’re back, that you’re in one piece, and that you really need to not try to remember, Sam. Death put up a wall to make sure you don’t remember your time in the Cage.”

 

“And if I do?” Sam asks, his heart in his throat.

 

“Then he couldn’t guarantee your sanity, or your continued well being,” Dean replies. “Promise you won’t try. What I did—what I had to do—wouldn’t mean a whole lot if I lost you now.”

 

Sam nods. “I promise. I won’t try.”

 

Dean nods, appearing relieved. “Good, that’s good. It’s nice to have you back, Sam. I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he disappears.

 

Sam watches him go, and he feels as though he’s missed far more than a year and a half; he feels as though he’s missed a lifetime, as though he’s Rip Van Winkle, awake after twenty years asleep.

 

He stares at his sandwich, and has no idea what to do with the reality awaiting him.

 

~~~~~

 

Sam eats another two sandwiches before he’s satisfied, and he’s on his second beer when he finally joins Dean in Bobby’s study. Bobby and Jimmy have their heads bent together over an ancient tome, but they both glance up when Sam enters the room.

 

“Sam, you remember Jimmy,” Dean says by way of introduction, lounging in a chair next to Jimmy, their knees bumping.

 

Sam nods, the stark white gauze on Jimmy’s wrists catching his attention again. “Hey.”

 

“Sam,” Jimmy replies, his voice perfectly neutral. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Not too bad.” Sam shifts uncomfortably under Bobby’s suspicious gaze and Jimmy’s blank expression. “It’s nice to see you again.”

 

Jimmy nods stiffly. “Yeah.” He stands up. “I need to call Claire.”

 

Sam frowns, remembering the young blonde girl, who had briefly served as Castiel’s vessel. “Your daughter, right? How is she?”

 

Jimmy looks surprised. “She’s doing well, thank you for asking.”

 

“Tell her I said hello,” Dean says. “And we’ll see her for Christmas.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, glancing at Sam with a dubious expression.

 

Dean nods. “Very sure. It’s still okay, isn’t it, Bobby?”

 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Bobby replies gruffly.

 

Sam feels a little lost. “Christmas?”

 

“It’s in a couple of weeks, and Claire wanted to spend the holiday with Jimmy,” Dean explains. “That okay with you?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Sam agrees, bewildered. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

Dean shrugs. “No reason.”

 

Jimmy won’t quite meet Sam’s eyes. “I’ll let Claire know,” he says as he slips out of the room.

 

“I’ve got a few things to do in the yard,” Bobby announces, and he leaves without so much as a glance in Sam’s direction.

 

Sam watches him leave and asks, “Is there something I should know about?”

 

“You weren’t yourself,” Dean says with finality. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Sam knows there’s more to it than that, but he’s well aware that there’s no getting Dean to talk about something until he’s good and ready. “You and Jimmy—you’re pretty serious, huh?”

 

“We’re serious,” Dean agrees. “And Claire’s a good kid. You’ll like her.”

 

“I liked her the last time we met,” Sam replies. “You sound like you’ve gotten attached.”

 

“Maybe I have,” Dean replies defensively. “So what?”

 

Sam has no idea where Dean’s hostility is coming from. “So, nothing. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

 

Dean’s shoulders sag. “Yeah, sorry. I just—Jimmy’s had a hard time, you know? I don’t want to make things harder on him than they have to be.”

 

Sam touches his own wrist. “Did he—?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “It’s not what you’re thinking. They’re stigmata. And just so you know, he can heal people, but it takes a lot out of him, so be careful around him.”

 

There’s a weight to Dean’s words that suggests whatever Sam had done in the past, he hadn’t been as careful of Jimmy as Dean would like. “I will be, Dean,” he promises.

 

Dean smiles. “Thanks. I should go talk to Bobby. Rest up, huh? You’ve got a lot of sleep to catch up on.”

 

Sam isn’t tired, but he sits down at the table and pages through the book that Bobby and Jimmy had been reading.  It’s some kind of reference book, talking about heavenly weapons, and he wonders what it’s all about.

 

~~~~~

 

Sam has always felt at home at Bobby’s house; he’d spent enough time there as a kid to view it as a second home after the Impala.

 

And he’s never been so uncomfortable.

 

Two days after he wakes up in the panic room, Bobby still looks at him with distrust, and Jimmy can’t seem to handle even being in the same room as him.  He finds a reason to disappear any time Sam is around.

 

Sam would like to talk to him, to get to know him a little better, given how close he and Dean seem to be. Jimmy’s making it really difficult, though.

 

Sam comes around the corner towards the study on the second night and stops cold when he spots Dean and Jimmy. Dean’s got his arms loosely around Jimmy’s waist, and Jimmy’s face is pressed against the side of Dean’s neck.

 

He backs up, knowing better than to eavesdrop, but too curious to do anything else.

 

“It can be just the two of us,” Dean is saying.

 

“And how are you going to explain that?” Jimmy asks in a low voice. “I’ll be fine. I could always stay behind.”

 

“I told you, we’re not splitting up,” Dean says, keeping his voice low, but his tone is heated.

 

Jimmy pulls back. “That was different. That was before.”

 

“It’s no different now,” Dean says. “You’re still my partner, and Sam’s my brother. You’ll like him once you really get to know him.”

 

As Sam glances around the corner, Jimmy presses his lips to Dean’s hungrily, and it’s more than a little strange to watch his brother kiss a man, but Dean looks like he’s enjoying himself.

 

Sam looks away as the kiss goes on, unable to watch what is obviously a very intimate moment between them.

 

“For your sake,” Jimmy promises. “We don’t have to have Christmas, Dean.”

 

“I promised Claire,” Dean replies. “So yeah, we do. We do this job, and we pick Claire up, and then we have Christmas with the four of us.”

 

Jimmy chuckles. “What on earth did you say to Amelia to get her to agree?”

 

“I told her that this would be the first Christmas in decades that my family would be together, and I wanted the same for you,” Dean replies. “She agreed pretty quick when I put it that way.”

 

“I think she likes you better than she likes me,” Jimmy says wryly.

 

Sam frowns, wondering why Jimmy’s wife—or his ex-wife at this point—would like Dean better. Hell, for that matter, he wonders how Dean had wound up with Jimmy. It’s like he hadn’t even tried to get out of the hunting business.

 

Maybe he hadn’t.

 

“Well, I wasn’t married to her, remember?” Dean asks, sounding amused. “I guarantee she wouldn’t like me half as much if she had to live with me.”

 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy replies. “I live with you, and I like you just fine.”

 

“That’s probably because you’re crazy,” Dean says affectionately. There’s another long pause, and Sam leans his head against the wall in the hallway, knowing what they’re likely doing. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Jimmy says. “Just—don’t leave us alone together, all right?”

 

Sam slips away after that, not staying to hear Dean’s response. He has no idea what he’d done to Jimmy, but his stomach twists with dismay.

 

He’d liked Jimmy, and he doesn’t like the thought that he’d hurt someone and can’t even remember it.

 

If he can’t ask Jimmy what he’s done, he’ll try to corner Bobby.

 

Bobby doesn’t look pleased to see Sam when he finds him outside, working on a car engine. “Yeah? What is it you need?”

 

“What happened?” Sam demands. “What did I do?”

 

Bobby gives him a disgruntled look. “I’m not the one you should be asking that.”

 

“Dean won’t answer my questions, and Jimmy won’t stay in the same room as me,” Sam replies. “Hell, you won’t even look at me.”

 

Bobby snorts. “You didn’t much want your soul back, and you didn’t care about the collateral damage. I’ll get over it.”

 

“What about Jimmy?” Sam presses.

 

Bobby sighs. “Don’t you dare tell your brother that I told you, hear me?”

 

Sam nods.

 

“You let Dean get turned by a vampire, and Jimmy nearly killed himself healing him,” Bobby says briefly. “Dean’ll forgive you, because you’re his brother, but Jimmy’s not going to trust you any time soon.”

 

Sam swallows. “And you?”

 

Bobby adjusts his hat. “I’m not kicking you out, am I?”

 

That’s not much of an answer, but Sam knows better than to push Bobby when he doesn’t want to be pushed. “I’m sorry,” he says helplessly, even though he’s not entirely clear what he’d done.

 

“You weren’t yourself,” Bobby replies, echoing Dean’s words. “Go on now. Get out of here.”

 

Sam leaves, wandering back into the house, standing in the hallway, as uncertain as he’s ever been. He’s not sure that he belongs here; he’s not sure he belongs in Dean’s life.

 

He’d wanted Dean to move on, to find happiness apart from Sam, and now that he has, Sam doesn’t know whether he and Dean fit together anymore.

 

Dean has always been the one thing Sam could count on, and now…

 

He wishes he could remember the last year.

 

“You okay?”

 

Sam blinks, seeing Dean at the end of the hallway, looking at him with concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies, remembering his promise to Bobby.

 

“We have a job,” Dean says. “You up for it? If not, you can stay here.”

 

Sam isn’t sure which would be worse—staying with Bobby, who won’t look at him, or riding in a car with Dean and Jimmy, when Jimmy can’t stand to be in the same room with Sam.

 

“Is Jimmy going to be okay with that?” Sam asks.

 

“Jimmy will be fine,” Dean replies. “You two just have to get to know each other is all.”

 

Sam shakes his head. “Oh, is that all?”

 

Dean nods. “Yeah, that’s all,” he says, like saying so makes it true.

 

Sam wishes it worked that way.

 

~~~~~

 

When they leave Bobby’s, Jimmy climbs into the backseat before Sam can protest, saying only, “Your legs are longer.”

 

In the passenger seat, Sam can almost believe that nothing has changed, that it’s Cas in the backseat, riding with them again.

 

Almost. The silence in the Impala isn’t the comfortable quiet Sam’s used to sharing with Dean.

 

Jimmy takes a call after they’ve been on the road a few hours, and Dean automatically turns down the music. “Hey, baby,” he says.

 

It takes Sam a second to realize that Jimmy’s talking to Claire.

 

“No, I’m good,” Jimmy replies. “Have you had any more dreams?”

 

Sam stays quiet, listening to the one-sided conversation.

 

“Right after we’re done with this job, I promise,” Jimmy says. “We’ll spend Christmas together. Sound good?”

 

“Let me talk to her,” Dean says.

 

Jimmy holds up a hand. “Yeah, we’re fine. Dean wants to say hello.” He passes the phone up to Dean, and Sam blinks as Dean says warmly, “Hey, kiddo. How are you?”

 

Dean doesn’t say much, just listens with apparent enjoyment to whatever Claire’s telling him, and Sam realizes that Dean had really done it—he’d found a life for himself with Sam gone, even if it’s not the life Sam had envisioned for him.

 

Eventually, Dean says, “All right, I’m giving you back to your dad now. I’ll see you soon.”

 

Jimmy takes the phone back and leans against the door, stretching out sideways in the backseat. “I’ll call before I show up,” Jimmy promises.

 

There’s a pause, and he says, “No, this job isn’t going to keep us away. If I have to, I’ll fly back.”

 

“You’re not going to have to fly back,” Dean insists. “I’ll get you back in time.”

 

“You hear that?” Jimmy asks. “You know Dean keeps his promises.” Sam can see his grin in the rearview mirror. “Love you, too.”

 

Dean glances over his shoulder. “Winter formal, huh?”

 

“Shut up,” Jimmy says without heat.

 

Dean laughs. “She’ll run rings around the boys, especially after we get through with her.”

 

“Go easy, Dean,” Jimmy warns him. “If Amelia finds out—”

 

“Claire isn’t going to tell her, and neither will we,” Dean replies.

 

Sam gives Dean a questioning look. “What’s up?”

 

“Amelia doesn’t want Claire exposed to hunting,” Dean explains. “So, we have to keep it quiet, okay?”

 

Sam nods. “Yeah, sure, you got it. Not a problem.”

 

Dean smiles. “Good. We’ll stop for the night soon.”

 

Sam clears his throat. “Uh, one room or two?”

 

There’s a long, awkward silence, and Jimmy says softly, “We should probably save money where we can.”

 

“It’s okay,” Sam replies quickly. “Whatever you want to do.”

 

“Long as you don’t mind us sharing a bed,” Dean replies, a challenge in his voice.

 

Sam smiles, playing it off as a joke. “Well, I’m not sharing with either one of you, so that works out fine.”

 

Dean mock-glares. “What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that you kick, and from what I remember, Jimmy steals the covers,” Sam replies.

 

Dean lets out a bark of laughter. “He’s right about that much, Jimmy.”

 

A glance at the backseat, and Sam can see Jimmy hiding a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jimmy insists.

 

“Sure you don’t,” Dean teases. “Anybody hungry?”

 

“Starved,” Sam replies.

 

“Same,” Jimmy agrees.

 

Dean nods, looking pleased. “Food and beds, coming right up.”

 

Sam feels as though he’s making some progress. At least it’s a decent start.

 

It’s another hour before they stop for food, but the silence feels more comfortable now. Dean stops at a diner for his usual fare, and Sam is amused when neither of them even glance at the menu, and Dean orders for the both of them.

 

Sam orders the chicken club with a side salad as a marginally healthier option, but he has to admit that it’s a comfort to know that some things haven’t changed.

 

Dean might have a partner—he might even have a boyfriend—but he still orders a burger when he has a choice.

 

Jimmy and Dean both scarf their burgers and fries quickly, and Sam’s leg gets jostled often enough that he suspects they’re playing footsie under the table.

 

Sam doesn’t mind, though, especially seeing the secretive glances they keep exchanging. If he’d needed confirmation, he has it.

 

Dean’s happy with Jimmy; Jimmy is happy with him. Dean somehow has a step-daughter, or the closest thing to it. Sam just hopes there’s still enough room in Dean’s life for him.

 

When they’ve cleaned their plates, Dean wipes his mouth with a napkin and calls for the check. “You okay with heading out from here?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Jimmy agrees, following Dean’s example.

 

“Sam?” Dean prompts.

 

Sam chases the least bit of dressing on his plate with a stray piece of lettuce and puts his fork down. “Ready.”

 

There’s a motel next to the diner, and Dean checks in, leaving Jimmy and Sam in the car together. “I hope this isn’t too awkward,” Sam says, the night pressing down on him, even in the glare of the street lamps.

 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jimmy replies. “I want us to get along. It’s important to Dean.”

 

“Same here,” Sam says. “Whatever I did before I got my soul back, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s forgotten,” Jimmy assures him.

 

Sam doesn’t think it’s going to be that easy, but he nods, grateful that Jimmy is willing to meet him halfway. “Thanks.”

 

Sharing a room isn’t as awkward as it might have been, mostly because Dean and Jimmy act more like a couple of friends instead of a couple. Even when they crawl into bed together, Sam notes that they leave a decorous six inches between them.

 

He drops off to sleep, waking with a gasp a few hours later from a fractured, chaotic nightmare tinged with red.

 

The light from the parking lot casts shadows on the walls, and Sam gulps in air, glancing over at Dean for reassurance.

 

Dean is curled around Jimmy now, and they’re so tangled up in each other that Sam can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

 

Sam lies back down on the bed and closes his eyes, willing himself back to sleep.

 

~~~~~

 

Sam doesn’t believe in dragons, or he hadn’t until now, but the evidence fits—gold, virgins, giant bat-like flying creatures. Bobby’s expert is in California, though, and it makes sense for them to split up, with Dean and Jimmy heading south and Sam staying in Portland.

 

He feels a little bereft, even though he knows it’s foolish. Even if Jimmy weren’t around, they still would’ve divided the labor, and Sam would still have been alone. The difference now is that Dean _isn’t_ alone, and Sam is.

 

He’s never really felt like a third wheel before, even when Dean had disappeared with a girl for a night—mostly because it had been one night.

 

Sam continues to work the case on his end, calling Bobby with what he’s learned. “Dragons live in caves,” he explains. “But there’s nothing around for miles.”

 

“Less literal, maybe,” Bobby suggests. “What else do you got that’s cold, dark, and wet?”

 

“Subway lines,” Sam replies, and then the solution hits him. “Maybe sewers. Thanks, Bobby.”

 

“How’s Dean?” Bobby asks, sounding deceptively nonchalant.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Sam admits. “He and Jimmy went to see your friend down in California about a weapon.”

 

Bobby grunts. “Good luck to them.”

 

Sam feels the awkwardness between them. “Bobby, look—”

 

“Drop it, Sam,” Bobby advises him. “Don’t pick at it.”

 

Sam sighs. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Good, because your brother went through hell trying to get you back, and so did we,” Bobby replies. “In this case, what you don’t know won’t hurt you. I’ll see you in a few days, huh?”

 

“See you then,” Sam promises.

 

He doesn’t have much to do but try to track down the dragons and wait for Dean and Jimmy to return—which they do in a little over a day and a half, with a sword, although Sam quickly gathers that things hadn’t quite turned out the way Dean expected.

 

“I still can’t believe it,” Dean grumbles as Jimmy places the sword on the small table in their motel room.

 

Jimmy grins smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt and jacket riding up just enough to reveal the white gauze. “Believe it.”

 

“I mean, why you and not me?” Dean protests with what could only be called a pout, as he throws himself on one of the beds.

 

“Because I’m pure of heart?” Jimmy suggests with a mischievous grin.

 

Dean snorts, but he doesn’t argue. “That doesn’t mean you’re going to be the one wielding it.”

 

“Sure it does,” Jimmy replies. “I was the one who pulled it out of the stone, and I was the one who promised Dr. Visyak that I’d bring it back in one piece.”

 

Sam grins. “Let me guess: she liked Jimmy better than she liked you.”

 

“Clearly, she has very poor taste,” Dean insists. “I’m pretty sure she dated Bobby at one point, so case in point.”

 

Jimmy snickers. “And if I asked Bobby, I’m sure he’d say that was evidence of her exquisite taste.”

 

Dean sneers. “Oooh, big word.”

 

Jimmy pats the sword in a proprietary manner. “I’ve got a few of those. I’ll bet Sam knows them.”

 

“I know them,” Dean protests. “And we’ve got dragons to kill, St. George.”

 

“Lead the way,” Jimmy says. “Or maybe Sam should lead the way.”

 

Sam grimaces apologetically. “Sorry, guys, but I think they’re in the sewers.”

 

“Wouldn’t be the worst place I’ve ever been,” Dean says philosophically.

 

He changes his tune an hour later when they’re still traipsing through dank tunnels and muck, and appear to be no closer to their goal. Even though Jimmy’s the one carrying the sword, Dean is in the lead, and Sam is bringing up the rear.

 

From what Dean has told Sam of Jimmy’s gifts, it makes sense to keep him safe in the middle.

 

“Ugh. Just when I think I’ve gotten used to the smell, I hit a new flavor,” Dean complains. “Are you sure they’re down here? Maybe the lore is wrong.”

 

“The lore isn’t wrong,” Sam insists. “There’s just a lot of sewer to search.”

 

“Hey,” Jimmy says suddenly, pointing off to the right. “Look.”

 

Sam turns his flashlight in that direction, and there’s a pile of gold illuminated by the thin beam of light, and behind the gold, an altar with a leather bound book.

 

“I think we’ve found our dragons,” Jimmy murmurs.

 

“Well, we’ve found where they’re living, anyway,” Sam agrees, running his hand over the cover of the book, which is bound in some kind of leather.

 

Dean picks up a gold watch from the pile and then starts to fill his pockets.

 

“Dude, we don’t have time for that,” Sam protests.

 

“We always have time for gold,” Dean replies with a grin.

 

“Hello? Is someone there?”

 

The girl’s voice causes all three of them to stiffen, and Dean drops what’s in his hand. “Hang on,” Dean calls. “We’re here to help.”

 

Sam scans the floor with his flashlight, since the voices had come from below, and after a few seconds’ search, finds a grate, which appears to be welded closed. The light passes over a girl’s dirty face, and she raises a hand to shield her eyes, but not before Sam recognizes Penny from the missing persons photo.

 

Jimmy brings the sword up. “Get them out,” he says. “I’ll cover you.”

 

Sam and Dean muscle the grate out of the way by sheer brute force, and Penny says, “They’re coming back.”

 

“We know,” Sam assures her. “It’s okay.”

 

There’s a shout from behind them, and Sam puts Penny on her feet before he whirls to face the newest threat.

 

There’s what looks to be a man in his thirties advancing on Jimmy, but his hands are glowing red, the color of superheated metal. Jimmy raises the sword, holding it in front of him, and the dragon laughs. “And what are you going to do with that?”

 

Jimmy thrusts and plunges the sword into his side.

 

The dragon cries out in pain. “Where did you get that?”

 

“Comic-Con,” Dean quips. “Sam, get them out of here.”

 

Sam wants to protest, but he can see Dean’s point. The girls need to be led to safety, and Dean is watching Jimmy’s back.

 

And then one of the dragons grabs Sam from behind, and he cries out a warning, twisting out of the dragon’s hold.

 

“Fuck,” Dean curses. “Jimmy! Stop dancing around and kill the bastard!”

 

“It’s harder than it looks,” Jimmy snaps and then dives forward, thrusting upward with the sword, catching the dragon by surprise.

 

The dragon attacking Sam responds by shoving Sam hard so that he crashes into Dean and Jimmy in a tangle of limbs. By the time they disentangle themselves, the dragon has flown, but at least the girls are unharmed.

 

“Let’s go,” Dean says once they’re on their feet again. “Come on.”

 

Sam grabs the book, and they make their way out of the sewers, with Jimmy taking the rear this time. Compared to how long they’d been searching, it takes very little time to get out.

 

Once they’re above ground, Jimmy hands a burner phone to Penny, who seems to have taken the lead with the other girls, as they’re huddled around her. “Call 911,” he says. “We’ll stay until the police arrive, but we can’t be involved.”

 

Penny nods and clutches the phone. “I will. We won’t say anything.”

 

Dean strips off his jacket and hands it to Jimmy. “Wrap the sword in that. “

 

They stick around until they hear the sirens and see the flashing lights. “You’ll be okay,” Dean says. “My number’s programmed in the phone if you have any other trouble.”

 

Penny nods. “Thank you.”

 

They disappear into the growing crowd with ease, just three guys out for a stroll, and when they’re back in the car, Sam starts laughing.

 

“What?” Dean demands.

 

Sam shakes his head. “We’ve got St. George in the backseat, Dean. He just killed a _dragon_.”

 

“Very funny,” Jimmy says stiffly.

 

Dean grins, and then starts laughing, too. “Can we call you George?”

 

“You cannot,” Jimmy replies with dignity. “You know, we’re supposed to pick Claire up in a couple of days. How are we supposed to get the sword back to Dr. Visyak?”

 

“Dude, that’s what UPS is for,” Dean replies. “We’ll pack it up the next chance we’ve got.”

 

Sam holds up the book. “At least we’re not empty-handed.”

 

“And Jimmy saved the fair maidens,” Dean teases.

 

Sam catches sight of Jimmy rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror, but he’s smiling.

 

In the closed car, it becomes really obvious that they’ve brought the smell of sewer with them, but Dean drives for a couple of hours in spite of that, although they keep the windows cracked.

 

When they do stop well after midnight, it’s at a cheap motel on the outskirts of Troutdale, with half the letters in the neon “Vacancy” burned out.

 

“Shower, a few hours of sleep, and then we head to Pontiac,” Dean says when Sam returns from checking them in.

 

“First shower,” Sam calls, dangling the room key, and is greeted with groans from Jimmy and Dean.

 

“Maybe I’ll wait until morning,” Dean mutters.

 

Jimmy gives him a sly look. “Not if you want to sleep in the same bed as me.”

 

“Well, you’re not sleeping with me,” Sam says, keeping his tone light. “So, don’t even think about it.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean says dryly.

 

When Sam emerges from the shower, Dean and Jimmy are perched on the edge of one of the beds, and Dean’s hands are tangled in Jimmy’s hair. Sam pauses, watching them for a moment.

 

They’re kissing slow and unhurried, like they haven’t heard the shower turn off, and Sam leans against the doorjamb, waiting for them to notice him.

 

In some ways, the picture is just the same—ugly bedspreads with cowboys riding bucking broncos, stained beige carpet that’s better ignored, his brother making it with someone while Sam watches, bemused.

 

But it’s not at all the same, because Dean’s kissing a guy, someone they know, someone who will be in the backseat of the Impala tomorrow, and the days thereafter. Jimmy Novak isn’t some girl Dean’s picked up at a bar who will leave in the morning; he’s the guy who’s all but taken Sam’s place during the time he’s been away.

 

Sam’s missed a year and a half, and the whole world has changed around him.

 

Eventually, when it doesn’t look like they’re going to come up for air any time soon, Sam clears his throat. “Uh, guys? Shower’s free.”

 

After a moment, Dean breaks off the kiss. “Go for it, Jimmy.”

 

Jimmy steals one more kiss before he stands. “I’ll make it quick,” he promises.

 

When the bathroom door closes behind him, Sam observes, “You guys are good together.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean says, sounding a little cautious. “You’re okay with Claire spending Christmas with us, right? I probably should have asked you before, but—”

 

“Of course,” Sam says quickly. “It’ll be nice to have a kid around. Different.”

 

Dean lights up. “She’s a great kid.”

 

Sam raises his eyebrows and sits down on the bed across from Dean. “It sounds like you’ve gotten pretty attached.”

 

“Wait until you get to know her,” Dean replies. “You’ll love her.”

 

It sounds like Dean _wants_ Sam to love her, which is a different story. “I’m sure I will,” Sam agrees. “You generally have good taste in kids. And maybe boyfriends. Jury’s still out on that, since I’m working with a sample size of one.”

 

Dean chuckles, but the sound is a little uncertain. “Yeah. About that…” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “It sorta happened.”

 

“It’s okay,” Sam assures him. “I mean, I figured if you’d settle down with anybody, it’d be Lisa, right?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “And saddle her with all my baggage? No way. I couldn’t get out of the life, and then Jimmy called, and it was—it was good. It _is_ good.”

 

Sam is well versed in reading between the lines with Dean, and he knows what his brother pointedly _isn’t_ saying. Jimmy isn’t going anywhere, and Dean has made a life with him. Sam’s presence isn’t going to change that.

 

Honestly, Sam doesn’t want it to change, because Dean just lights up with Jimmy, and lights up at the mention of Jimmy’s kid. Hell, Sam _likes_ Jimmy, who has apparently been dealt a shitty hand and is dealing with it as best he can.

 

“Well, he’s an honorary Winchester now, isn’t he?” Sam asks.

 

And that’s the right thing to say, because Dean grins at him, his teeth very white against his grimy skin. “Pretty much.”

 

“I can take first shift driving tomorrow,” Sam offers. “I know we’re going to have to push hard to get to Pontiac in time to pick Claire up.”

 

Jimmy emerges from the bathroom, still scrubbing a towel over his hair. “Bathroom is yours, Dean.”

 

“Thanks, man,” Dean says, pressing Sam’s shoulder briefly as he passes him.

 

Sam stretches out on the bed, pulling out his phone and checking for news alerts as Jimmy grabs the laptop. At some point in the last year and a half, Dean had invested in a hotspot, so they always have internet, and Sam’s used to Jimmy’s routine at this point.

 

Every night, if Jimmy doesn’t call Claire, he sends her a long email. Tonight is no different; Jimmy begins typing rapidly after a few minutes, wearing the same smile he does when he’s talking to Claire on the phone.

 

He wouldn’t have thought Dean and Jimmy had much in common, but it’s starting to make sense. They both have the same devotion to family, and Dean has always liked kids. In Jimmy, Dean has someone who needs him, and a step-kid, as well as a partner.

 

“I’m going to turn in,” Sam says.

 

Jimmy barely glances up. “Good night, Sam,” he replies absently.

 

Sam is still awake when Dean emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, though, and he keeps his eyes closed when he hears rustling fabric and quiet noises that sound like kissing.

 

“We can’t,” Jimmy whispers. “Sam.”

 

“Sam’s asleep,” Dean insists in the same low tone. “We’ll go out to the car. It’s been too long.”

 

Jimmy makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “It’s only been a day, and you’re lucky it’s not freezing outside.”

 

“I hope to get lucky,” Dean counters. “Sam’s taking first shift driving tomorrow. Have you ever had sex in the back of a car?”

 

Sam hears a low chuckle. “I’ve never had to.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Dean insists.

 

Sam hears the click of the hotel door and makes a mental note not to sit in the backseat the next day, although he knows Dean is good about cleaning up after himself.

 

At least he doesn’t have to see or listen to Dean having sex—which has happened in the past. They’ve lived in such close quarters for most of their lives, they hadn’t always been able to have the privacy they’d desired.

 

Except that Dean had that privacy while Sam had been gone, and he wonders if it had been easier on Dean that way.

 

He’s still awake when they reenter the room, although they’re nearly silent. Sam keeps his eyes closed and his breathing even, wanting to give the appearance of sleep.

 

His chaotic thoughts keep him awake far longer than Sam would like, though, and when he does fall asleep, it’s with the feeling that he’s an interloper in his own life.

 

~~~~~

 

Although they have to push hard to reach Pontiac at the time Jimmy had promised, they manage it by driving and sleeping in shifts. They arrive in the late afternoon, and opt to grab dinner and a full night’s sleep before picking Claire up the next morning.

 

They get separate rooms that night, though, and Sam is grateful for it. He’s even more grateful that their rooms don’t share a wall, although he’d purchased some earplugs at one of the gas stations they’d stopped at on the way east.

 

Sam wakes up later than usual the next morning, but still in time for check out, and calls Dean to ensure his brother is awake as well, but Jimmy’s the one who answers, saying, “We’re up. We’ll meet you outside in twenty minutes.”

 

“See you then,” Sam replies.

 

There’s a coffee shop just down the way from the motel, and Sam grabs a tray of drinks and leans against the hood of the Impala, waiting for Dean and Jimmy to emerge.

 

Dean and Jimmy show up a few minutes later, with Dean yawning and rubbing his eyes, and Jimmy looking a little more alert, wearing a leather coat that’s just a little too big, and that Sam recognizes as having belonged to Dean.

 

“Thanks,” Jimmy says, as Sam holds out a cup of coffee.

 

Dean grunts, a sound that Sam takes as gratitude, and climbs behind the wheel. Sam takes that as their cue to depart and slides into the front passenger seat.

 

They pull up outside a small, nondescript house fifteen minutes later, and Sam stays in the car while Dean and Jimmy climb out.

 

He watches with interest as they walk up to the front door, which is flung open. Sam isn’t sure he would have recognized Claire if he’d run into her on the street. She’s taller, the top of her head flush with Jimmy’s chin, and she throws her arms around Jimmy’s waist.

 

Amelia follows Claire out onto the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, although she unbends enough to smile at Dean.

 

Dean shakes her hand and picks up a bright blue suitcase, turning back to the car. Jimmy stands on the porch a minute longer, talking with Amelia, and Sam can see the awkwardness from where he’s sitting in the driveway.

 

He hears the trunk slam closed, and Dean gets back in the car. “What’s up with them?” Sam asks.

 

Dean grimaces. “It’s been a little rocky recently. They were doing pretty good until Cas repossessed him for a while. Plus, Amelia’s dating a guy Claire doesn’t like, so Claire’s not making things any easier.”

 

“But she’s okay with Jimmy having Claire for Christmas?” Sam asks. Amelia kisses Jimmy on the cheek, and he puts an arm around Claire’s shoulders as they head back to the car.

 

Hitching a shoulder, Dean says, “I’m with them.”

 

“You’re always with Jimmy,” Sam points out.

 

Dean sighs. “Yeah, and she doesn’t exactly let Jimmy forget that.”

 

They fall silent as Jimmy and Claire climb into the backseat. “Hey, kiddo,” Dean says.

 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Claire replies brightly.

 

“You remember my brother, Sam?” Dean asks.

 

Sam twists in the passenger seat to smile at her. “Hey.”

 

“Hi,” Claire replies. “It’s nice to see you again.”

 

“Same here,” Sam replies. “Dean has a lot of good things to say about you.”

 

Claire grins at him. “That’s nice to know.”

 

Jimmy looks at Claire with ill-disguised adoration. “You might want to stop there, or she’ll get an ego,” he teases.

 

Claire rolls her eyes and flips her braid over her shoulder. “Puh-lease. Dean’s ego still fits in the car. Besides, I’m a teenage girl. I’m supposed to have low self-esteem, which means I need all the help I can get.”

 

“Ouch,” Dean says, miming a shot to the heart. “Also, whoever said that teenage girls have low self-esteem never met you.”

 

Claire grins and nudges Jimmy with her elbow. “You tell him, Dad.”

 

“No way am I getting in the middle,” Jimmy replies. “You ready to celebrate Christmas? I think you’re going to have to help us pick out a tree and decorate it.”

 

“I don’t care,” Claire announces. “Anything is better than spending the holidays with _Brad_. Thanksgiving was boring.”

 

“Brad?” Sam mouths at Dean.

 

“Amelia’s boyfriend,” Dean mouths back.

 

Jimmy clears his throat. “You should probably show some respect for Brad,” he says, sounding rather reluctant.

 

“Come on, Dad, you’ve met him,” Claire replies, contempt dripping from her words. “He talks to me like I’m an idiot.”

 

Sam thinks about suggesting that maybe Brad doesn’t know how to talk to kids—or teenagers—but he’s not about to stick his nose in right now, not when he’s starting to feel like they’re reaching a sort of equilibrium.

 

“He may just not know how to talk to teenagers,” Jimmy points out, echoing Sam’s thoughts. “Once he gets to know you—”

 

Claire shakes her head emphatically. “No way. He _starches his jeans_.”

 

Dean snorts in unison with Sam, and Jimmy covers his mouth with a hand.

 

“So, you hungry?” Dean asks, changing the subject.

 

Claire grins. “Starving. Can we get McDonald’s? Mom never lets me.”

 

“McDonald’s it is,” Dean says.

 

Jimmy sighs. “Don’t tell your mom.”

 

“No way,” Claire agrees. “And you’re going to teach me how to handle a gun, right, Dean?”

 

“I think we’ve created a monster,” Jimmy mutters.

 

Claire just grins. “When else am I going to learn?”

 

Sam watches as Dean grins broadly. “Well, what your mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”

 

Jimmy shakes his head, but doesn’t argue, although he does say, “You’re still not getting a tattoo until you’re eighteen.”

 

Claire grins. “Awesome. I’ll know exactly what I want by then.”

 

Jimmy groans, and Dean and Sam exchange amused looks.

 

Sam suspects that Claire is going to be a handful, and he’s certain that Dean is completely smitten.

 

It’s nice to see.

 

~~~~~

 

Claire keeps up her chatter for the first half of the drive, but then falls asleep against Jimmy’s shoulder after lunch, and is out the rest of the way. Dean turns the volume on the radio down once she falls asleep, and the drive passes in a comfortable kind of silence.

  
Jimmy has to shake her awake once they reach Bobby’s, but she bounces out of the car, fully alert, almost immediately.

 

Sam helps Dean grab their bags from the trunk as Jimmy leads Claire to the front door, where Bobby meets them.

 

Bobby’s rarely charmed, although Sam can remember seeing him flustered by a pretty woman a time or two. Still, when Claire puts out a hand to offer a hearty shake, and says, “It’s really nice to meet you, Mr. Singer. Thanks for having me,” Bobby’s expression softens noticeably.

 

“Hmph,” Bobby replies, but then unbends enough to say, “Nice to meet you. Come on in.”

 

Bobby’s made his semi-famous chili, which Claire eats with enthusiasm and sincere compliments to the cook.

 

When it gets late, Jimmy shows her up to the guest room, Bobby breaks out the whiskey, and Sam gives him the book they’d taken from the dragons. “That’s a real good kid you got there,” Bobby says when Jimmy rejoins them.

 

Jimmy flushes, his smile pleased and a little bashful. “She is, isn’t she? Amelia’s never going to forgive me if she turns into a hunter.”

 

“She’d make a good one,” Bobby says. “But that’s not a profession I’d want my kid going into.”

 

Jimmy sips his drink. “Yeah. I keep telling her she ought to be a doctor. There should be more people who know about the supernatural in the medical field.”

 

“She has good grades,” Dean says, sounding a little proprietary. “And she’s a soccer star. She’ll write her own ticket for college.”

 

It’s weird hearing Dean talk about college without the least bit of resentment, but Sam figures it’s a different story when Dean doesn’t feel like he’s being abandoned.

 

He wonders what Dean’s response would be if he said he was going back to school now that Dean has Jimmy, whether that would be enough. He wonders if he still has a place in Dean’s life; he’d never really questioned that before.

 

Sam believes that Dean wanted him back; he knows that Dean made a deal with Death to do it, but that’s just what they _do_. That’s part of being family, of being Winchesters.

 

It doesn’t mean Sam fits, or that Dean needs him, though.

 

With that thought, it takes a long time for Sam to drop off to sleep that night, half-curled on Bobby’s couch, Dean and Jimmy stretched out on the floor next to him, feeling more alone than he has in a long, long time.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean is still sleeping when Sam gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. Bobby and Jimmy are sitting at the table, and Sam doesn’t think he’s imagining Jimmy’s flinch at his entrance, although Bobby nods at him.

 

Sam pours a cup of coffee and tries to look non-threatening. “Hey.”

 

“Good morning,” Jimmy replies, his smile just a little forced, a few days worth of stubble on his face. “How’d you sleep?”

 

Sam shrugs, unwilling to admit that he hadn’t slept well, not wanting to explain why he’d been awake until the wee hours of the morning. “Not bad. You?”

 

Jimmy smiles in a self-deprecating way. “I think I’m getting too old to sleep on the floor.”

 

“You can always pick up an air mattress while you’re in town getting a tree,” Bobby replies. “Or there’s a cot down in the panic room.”

 

“I’ll pass on the cot,” Jimmy says dryly. “But the air mattress is a good idea.”

 

“You guys are getting a tree today?” Sam asks cautiously.

 

Jimmy nods. “You’re welcome to come with us, Sam.”

 

Sam wants to protest that it’s not necessary, but he suspects that the only way he and Jimmy are going to get comfortable with each other is if they spend more time together. Whatever he’d done before, Jimmy needs the chance to rewrite those memories. “Sure, thanks,” Sam says. “I’m not sure I’ve ever gone shopping for a tree. Maybe a Charlie Brown tree from a dumpster, but that’s it.”

 

“Well, we might get stuck with a Charlie Brown tree this year, given how close to Christmas it is, but that’s part of the adventure,” Jimmy replies with a happy grin.

 

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?” Sam asks.

 

Jimmy shrugs. “I do this year.”

 

“I’ve got some decorations in the attic. I’ll get them out,” Bobby offers

 

That’s the first Sam’s heard of Bobby having anything resembling Christmas decorations, and he knows it has to be from back when he was married. The fact that Bobby’s willing to dig them out says a lot.

 

Claire wanders into the kitchen wearing flannel pants with penguins on them and a black hoodie.

 

“Hey, baby,” Jimmy says. “You want breakfast?”

 

Claire looks hopeful. “Pancakes?”

 

Jimmy glances at Bobby, who nods. “I think I can make that happen.”

 

“Chocolate chip pancakes?” Claire asks.

 

“Good thing your dad gave me a shopping list,” Bobby says with a reluctant smile. “There are mini-chips in the pantry.”

 

Claire grins. “Coffee?”

 

“Don’t push your luck, kid,” Jimmy says, rising from the table, hitching up his faded, threadbare jeans and pushing the sleeves up on his blue Henley. “Give it another couple of years before you get addicted to caffeine.”

 

“I drink soda,” Claire protests. “And I get Starbucks all the time!”

 

Jimmy shakes his head. “Call me old fashioned.”

 

“You’re old fashioned,” Claire replies, but she’s smiling. “I’ll probably get a caffeine withdrawal headache, you know.”

 

Sam covers up a grin with his coffee cup, and Bobby doesn’t bother hiding his smirk.

 

“Let me know if that happens,” Jimmy says serenely. “We can always make more coffee.”

 

“I’ll bet Dean would buy me a mocha,” Claire says, clearly teasing.

 

“I’ll bet I’d buy you a decaf,” Dean says from the doorway. “’Morning.” He brushes a hand over the small of Jimmy’s back as he fills his own mug. “What’s for breakfast?”

 

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” Jimmy replies with a smile that’s as intimate as a kiss.

 

“There’s bacon in the fridge,” Bobby points out.

 

“And bacon,” Jimmy amends.

 

“I’ll help,” Dean says, rummaging in the fridge for the promised bacon.

 

Dean and Jimmy work well together, and as Dean puts the first platter full of pancakes on the table, Bobby says, “I could get used to this.”

 

“Daddy’s a good cook,” Claire declares. “He’s better than Mom, even.”

 

“High praise,” Jimmy murmurs. “Although I’m out of practice now.”

 

Sam takes his first bite of pancake and nearly groans. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

 

Jimmy grins over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

 

Dean eats his pancakes leaning against the counter, and as Jimmy cooks, his hip occasionally bumps Dean’s. 

 

Sam’s rather amused when Claire doesn’t change before they head into town, preferring to stay in her flannel pants and hoodie. When Jimmy asks her about it, she says, “I’m on vacation. I get to wear pajamas all the time if I want. Besides, it would drive Brad crazy.”

 

Jimmy stops arguing at that point, and Dean coughs to hide a laugh. Sam suspects that Claire is manipulating her father again, but he finds it rather amusing.

 

They hit up Wal-Mart, which Sam generally hates, but Claire’s chatter and wry, often catty comments, entertain him. She talks Dean into buying multi-colored, blinking lights for the tree, and a box full of ornaments shaped like gingerbread men. Claire convinces Dean to get toffee and peppermint bark, too, and a lot of groceries that he probably wouldn’t have otherwise. The tree they find is a little dry, and probably won’t last long, but it’s not bad looking.

 

All in all, Dean indulges Claire more than Sam expects, but it’s Christmas, and Jimmy’s clearly thrilled to have Claire with them, and Dean’s in a good mood. From the way Dean keeps glancing at Sam and grinning, Sam thinks he might have something to do with that.

 

They’ve borrowed Bobby’s van for their trip, and when he and Dean pull the tree out, it’s shed needles all over, but it still looks pretty decent when it’s set up in Bobby’s living room. Jimmy strings the lights with Claire’s help, and then they decorate the tree.

 

Sam hasn’t had a Christmas this normal since his years at Stanford, with Jess, and the memories this calls up are bittersweet.

 

He and Dean had never done much for Christmas, but he’d had two good ones with Jess before she was killed. He’d felt almost normal then, too.

 

Sam hasn’t thought about those holidays in years, and the memories press in close. He feels melancholy and out of place, and maybe a little left out.

 

Later that night, Sam’s still awake, sprawled out on the couch in Bobby’s study, the room lit by the glow from the lights on the tree. Claire’s gone to bed, Dean and Jimmy have disappeared somewhere in the yard, and Bobby’s running an errand in town.

 

Sam’s on his second beer with only his memories for company when Jimmy enters the room.

 

Sam sees Jimmy’s slight hesitation when he steps into the room, but then he seems to find his resolve and joins Sam on the couch.

 

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asks.

 

“Sure,” Sam lies. “Never better.” His eyes are drawn to the gauze around Jimmy’s wrists, white against his pale skin.

 

“Go ahead and ask,” Jimmy says with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

Jimmy shrugs. “Sometimes.” He hesitates, then admits, “Most of the time, but it’s not usually that bad. It hurts more after I heal someone, and the worse the injury, the more it hurts, and the more I bleed.”

 

“Dean doesn’t like it when you have to heal someone,” Sam observes, remembering what Dean had said about being careful around Jimmy.

 

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t.”

 

“We’ll have to see if we can avoid that in the future, then,” Sam says.

 

“I’m sure Dean will thank you,” Jimmy replies.

 

The silence that falls is almost comfortable, and Dean joins them a few moments later with a beer for Jimmy and one for himself.

 

“It’s good to have you here, Sammy,” Dean says out of the blue, sounding completely sincere.

 

Sam smiles and believes him. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

 

~~~~~

 

Christmas morning dawns bright and cold, with clear blue skies and enough snow to blanket the ground. The lights on the Christmas tree are still lit, although they’re difficult to see with the bright sun streaming through the study window.

 

Sam can smell bacon cooking, and Dean and Jimmy have vacated the air mattress on the floor. He rolls off the couch and wanders to the kitchen. There’s a pot of coffee brewing, and Bobby’s sitting at the table.

 

“Breakfast two days in a row, huh?” Sam asks.

 

Bobby smiles. “A guy could get used to this.”

 

Dean’s flipping bacon over while Jimmy stirs the eggs. “Yeah, if hunting doesn’t work out for him, Jimmy could always get a job as a short order cook.”

 

“Not with my wrists,” Jimmy replies good-naturedly. “But it’s nice to cook again.”

 

“Feel free to come by and cook any time,” Bobby replies.

 

Claire enters the kitchen, still in her pajamas. “Merry Christmas!”

 

“Merry Christmas,” Jimmy replies, holding out an arm to pull her in for a hug. “You want eggs?”

 

“Definitely,” Claire says. “And yes! Bacon again! Mom never lets us have bacon at home.”

 

“It’s Christmas,” Jimmy replies. “Special occasion.”

 

Claire laughs. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

 

“My lips are sealed,” Jimmy says. “I want to be able to do this again.”

 

Claire hugs Dean next, and Dean gets this soft, pleased smile that Sam doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. “Merry Christmas, Dean,” she says.

 

“Same to you, kid,” Dean replies, tugging her sloppy ponytail.

 

Claire clearly surprises Bobby when she drops a kiss on his cheek, and then she gives Sam a quick, awkward hug that both startles and pleases him.

 

“Merry Christmas,” Sam says warmly. For the first time, he realizes that Claire might be the closest thing to a niece—or nephew—he’ll ever have; it’s no wonder Dean feels so proprietary.

 

Dean has decided that Jimmy’s family, and that means Claire is, too.

 

Claire races through breakfast, but Jimmy takes his time, and Dean follows suit. Sam exchanges a grin with Bobby, and they do the same as Claire fidgets.

 

“You’re torturing me on purpose,” she accuses Jimmy.

 

Jimmy takes a leisurely bite of bacon. “Now why would I do that?”

 

Her eyes narrow. “Because you can?”

 

“This is one of the few occasions when torturing your kid isn’t frowned upon,” Jimmy replies. “What makes you think I’d pass that up?”

 

Claire heaves a sigh. “You are cruel.”

 

“Oddly enough, you’re the first person who’s said that,” Jimmy says.

 

Eventually, though, they take their coffee to the living room, and Jimmy doesn’t say anything when Claire has a cup with plenty of milk and sugar.

 

Most of the packages under the tree are for Claire, but there are a couple for each of the adults. Sam had picked up a few small things when he’d found out they were going to celebrate Christmas when he had the chance.

 

No porn, of course, not with Jimmy and Claire there, but beer for Dean, a warm flannel shirt for Jimmy, and a book for Claire.

 

He hadn’t known what she liked, so he’d chosen one he’d enjoyed at her age. “ _A Tale of Two Cities_?” she asks, reading the title.

 

“I read it when I was about your age, and I really liked it,” Sam replies. “I hope you do, too.”

 

Claire gives him a sharp look. “Is there sex?”

 

“Uh…” Sam’s caught flat-footed. “I think there might be romance?”

 

Dean laughs loudly. “The look on your face, Sammy.”

 

Claire had purchased gifts for all of them, and Sam opens a box with a fleece-lined hoodie. He’s touched by the gift, considering that they barely know one another. She’d given Bobby a green trucker cap with the brim already worn in places. Bobby actually pulls his hat off his head and replaces it with the one that Claire gave him.

 

All of the gifts are simple, but meaningful, and it’s one of the better Christmases Sam can remember. When they’ve finished opening their gifts, Claire begins reading the book Sam had given her, and Dean and Jimmy go out for a walk.

 

Sam stretches out on the couch and starts paging through the book of lore, listening to the sounds of pots banging around in the kitchen as Bobby starts a pot of soup.

 

“Sam?” Claire asks from her position in one of Bobby’s old wingbacks, the sunlight turning her hair a pale gold.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you like being a hunter?”

 

Sam frowns. “Why do you ask?”

 

There’s a pause, and when Sam glances over at her, the book is facedown on Claire’s lap, and she’s regarding him seriously. “It just seems like you guys all really like it, but Dad and Dean are always telling me that I should do something else.”

 

Sam puts the book down and gives the question serious consideration. “It’s a hard life,” he says finally. “You know, before I did this, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer.”

 

“Really?” Claire asks incredulously.

 

“Really,” Sam replies. “But then someone I loved died, and Dean was there, and this seemed like the only option.”

 

“Do you regret it?” Claire asks.

 

Sam sighs. “The people who get into this life, they’re the ones who aren’t going to regret it. We’re all trying to make up for something, to revenge someone, to make things better, but it’s not a life I would choose for anybody else.”

 

Claire fiddles with the cover of the book. “Yeah. But what happens when the life chooses you?”

 

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Well, then, I guess you make the best of it.”

 

Claire goes back to her book after that, and Sam goes back to his, but Claire’s question echoes in his head for a long while.

 

This life had chosen him, and Sam can’t quite regret that fact—if only because Sam can’t imagine Dean doing anything else, and he wants to be there for Dean.

 

And being there for Dean now means being there for Jimmy, and Bobby, and Claire. Sam has some idea of how important family is to Dean, and without his family, Dean doesn’t function well.

 

Which seems to mean that Sam has his work cut out for him.

 

~~~~~

 

They have to take Claire back to Pontiac the next day, the same day Sam gets a text about four girls missing in Rhode Island.

 

“I don’t like it,” Dean mutters when Sam shows it to him. “We don’t know who it is, or what they want. It could be a trap.”

 

“Does it matter?” Sam asks. They’re standing outside in the yard while Jimmy loads up the car and Claire says goodbye to Bobby. “Four missing girls, Dean. _Four_. This is what we do.”

 

Dean runs a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I hear you. I just think it’s a bad idea, is all.”

 

“So, we’ll be careful,” Sam argues. “There’s three of us now, and we’ll look after each other.”

 

Dean hesitates. “Three of us, huh? Yeah, I guess there are.”

 

“How soon you forget,” Sam teases, hoping he hides the bitterness well enough.

 

Dean shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just—I was starting to get used to the old you is all.”

 

“Was I really that awful?”

 

“You weren’t yourself, and you risked Jimmy,” Dean says, and that’s answer enough for Sam. “That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

 

Sam nods. “I won’t risk him again. He’s important to you, and I like Claire, and if anything happens to Jimmy, her life is gonna be over. She’ll drop out of school and start hunting, and no one will be able to stop her. Trust me. I know.”

 

Dean appears taken aback. “Do you regret it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sam says. “Overall, no, but—I had a couple of good years with Jess, you know? A couple of Christmases a little like this one. I wish—I wish a lot of things, that’s all.”

 

Dean’s expression softens. “Yeah, I get that. Thanks, Sam. It’s nice to know that someone else has Jimmy’s back.”

 

Claire exits the house then, a grocery bag in hand full of the gifts she’d received. Bobby’s still wearing the cap she’d given him, and Sam suspects Bobby will wear it every time he sees Claire.

 

He thinks it’s pretty cool, actually. Sam has always suspected that Bobby is a big softie.

 

Claire gives Bobby a hug, and he pats her on the back. “You’re welcome back any time,” Bobby says.

 

“Thanks for letting me stay, Uncle Bobby,” Claire replies with a cheeky grin.

 

“Go on,” Bobby says gruffly. “You don’t have all day.” He shakes Jimmy’s hand and says, “Same goes for you.”

 

Jimmy smiles. “Thanks, Bobby.”

 

When Sam goes to shake Bobby’s hand, Bobby pulls him into a hug instead. “Take care of those two,” he instructs. “They need you.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam says, because that’s what he needs to hear. “I will.”

 

Bobby nods. “I know you will. I’ll call you when I have a better chance to look at that book.”

 

Sam climbs into the passenger seat and glances back at Claire and Jimmy. “You guys ready?”

 

“Ready to go back and deal with _Brad_?” Claire asks, her voice dripping with disdain. “No. Are you sure I can’t go hunting with you guys?”

 

“Not if you want your mom to let you come with us again,” Jimmy replies. “And you know, if you play nice with Brad, she might be more inclined to let you come on trips like this, just on the basis of your good attitude.”

 

Claire sighs audibly. “I’ll try, Daddy.”

 

“Good.” Jimmy presses his lips to her forehead. “Do it for me, not for Brad.”

 

“That helps,” Claire admits.

 

Dean slides behind the wheel and looks back at Claire. “One time offer, someone other than the driver picks the music, and that’s you, kid.”

 

Claire smirks at him. “AC/DC.”

 

Dean laughs. “That’s my girl.”

 

He pushes in the tape and “Paint It Black” starts blaring. Sam leans back in the passenger seat and grins.

 

The more things change, the more they stay the same, Sam thinks. But he has a place here and a purpose, and they’ve got a case.

 

It enough to be going on with.


End file.
